Opinions

She snickers without trying to hide it, delighted. "Don't tell me you actually believe that."

I resist the urge to backpedal, to laugh it off and fall back in with the expected. Instead, my glare hardens. "I do."

Of course, there is no challenge. It's English class, a brainstorming of ideas, background knowledge for the novel we're reading. And it happens to be about Christianity. By some coincidence, everyone in the small group is Jewish. Except me. And though I'm not, by any means, a strict Christian, I'm offended.

She laughs again, tossing her long hair over her shoulder with a twitch of her neck, like a bird, nervously flickering. There is no reason behind her beliefs, and no knowledge in her challenge, just beaten stereotypes. "Jesus was Jewish," she smirks, and the rest of the group giggles agreement, "Christianity doesn't even make sense." She speaks like this, rhythmic emphasis oh her words, as though her voice is a drum she's beating to entice followers.

"It's about forgiveness," I begin, but I'm forced to give up. Class is over, and they've already decided I'm insane. I simmer silently, knowing that even if I spoke, I could not be heard over the bandwagon anyway.